


Affinity

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin comes to the epic realization that Yunho finds him attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affinity

**Author's Note:**

> for [kale](http://dumbandconfused.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  **warnings:** language, explicit sex, snark. unbeta'd - please feel free to point out any errors in prose and/or characterisation!

-

‘Unfair,’ laughs Yunho one day, lying flat on his back on a bench, peeking underneath a towel over his face. Changmin turns to him in question, hand on his hip, the other tipping a water bottle back into his mouth. He raises his eyebrows in the universal sign of ‘what’.

Yunho wipes down the sweat from his face and tosses the towel to the side before he replies. ‘Your chest,’ he says, ‘you’re getting more muscular than me. Unfair.’

Changmin empties the bottle before gracing his hyung with a response. ‘Of course. You’re an old man.’ When he looks back, Yunho is pouting.

‘Unfair,’ repeats Yunho. Changmin rolls his eyes and considers throwing his gym bag at the other before settling with the more effective strategy of simply walking away to hit the showers post-workout.

-

At first, it had been surprising when Yunho mentioned it and Changmin had thought nothing of it. Of course Yunho would just spout random bullshit sometimes – just to play and tease since he never got the chance to do it with others due to his busy schedule.

He doesn’t expect it to be a running theme, for fuck’s sake. It happens again after the stylist instructs Changmin to put on the jacket for their pre-fitting before recording. Yunho wanders over still dressed in a sweater and shorts and pokes at Changmin’s chest, right between his pectorals.

‘You should put your guns away,’ says Yunho. Changmin narrows his eyes, takes a moment, translates, and comes back.

‘Guns refer to arm muscles, Yunho,’ he replies, then bats the offending hand away. The jacket is stiff at the elbows and shoulders, and Changmin is wondering why the hell he’s not wearing anything underneath, since the first button they’ve done up is dipping past his pecs entirely. ‘Where’s yours?’

‘They had to refit it around the waist. Make it more slimming or something.’ Yunho slides his fingers along the curve of his waist and Changmin’s eyes follow the arc. ‘I don’t think I need it, but they’re doing it anyway.’

‘You don’t,’ blurts Changmin, before he’s hurriedly backtracking in embarrassment. ‘These outfits are ridiculous as usual, so who even know what we’re supposed to look like in this anyway. See what they’ve done to my jacket.’ He means to gesture to the gaping neckline – is it even a neckline if it doesn’t even come near his neck? – but Yunho beats him to it when he skitters his fingertips from collarbone down to the delta of skin that cuts away at the button.

Changmin’s stomach goes concave with how much air he sucks in.

‘It looks good,’ reassures Yunho pleasantly, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘You’re so muscular, Changminnie.’

It takes a flat two seconds for Changmin to feel his entire face flush horribly.

‘Go back to your own outfit,’ he barks, turning away and hurriedly trying to find a stylist to poke at him or something. Behind him, Yunho walks away, humming, and Changmin heaves a sigh of relief.

-

One is chance, two is coincidence, but three…

It’s a new dance they have to learn for a new music video, of course, and SM vaguely suggests something ‘tighter, quicker, more vicious’. It doesn’t make sense to Changmin then and it makes even less sense now in the studio, backup dancers recruited and assembled behind him and Yunho as they cock their heads to listen.

 _Claw each other up, tear each other apart. Leave no enemy behind_ , says the choreographer. Yunho tilts his head, eyes half-lidded in thought, face smoothed out into blank seriousness, and Changmin’s mouth is suddenly very, very dry.

The choreographer asks for surety and strength as they complete a basic rehearsal. The studio vibrates as the – what? Five, eight, ten? – people stomp their feet to the hard beat of the music that echoes from the speakers. Through the entire thing, Changmin keeps to his side of the studio and Yunho to his own, before the choreographer is clapping for them to stop.

‘Now the protagonists must demonstrate that theme. Attack one another, don’t let the other win. Alpha male sort of thing, understand?’ Changmin doesn’t understand jack shit at first until he’s facing Yunho and Yunho’s mouth is pursed in thought as the choreographer guides him through the first few movements until Yunho’s hand is clawing right into Changmin’s chest – cotton shirt or no.

‘Ow,’ says Changmin flatly, more for the effect rather than any real sense of pain. Yunho immediately takes back his hand in apology, and the choreographer steps in between them, evaluating.

They try three more times, slowly, Changmin mirroring Yunho and Yunho scrapes his hand against Changmin’s chest, takes a grip, clutches – before he’s abruptly releasing his hold and dropping his hand as if it’s been scalded by the heat of Changmin’s body.

Changmin might be having trouble dancing, or breathing, or simply thinking anything that isn’t _‘dance move, Yunho, dance move, dance, Yunho, move, Yunho’s hands, dance mo – Yunho – ve – Yu – ’_

‘Perhaps it’s better if you switched sides. I thought it’d be better since Yunho-sshi is shorter and you’re lithe, but… Hm, Changmin-sshi, you try clawing Yunho-sshi this time,’ says the choreographer with an indecisive hum in the words.

Something in his brain stutters and stops. ‘What?’

‘Ah – what a loss,’ says Yunho with a mock-frown before he stands to attention and lets Changmin lead this time.

Changmin blows out a raspberry and acquiesces, letting the choreographer lead him through Yunho’s moves. And when he is instructed to take a grip into Yunho’s shirt, pull him in, breathe dominance into his face, before dropping him and moving onto the general choreo – Changmin doesn’t fuck up once.

That’s when he finally _gets it_. The heat, the appeal – Changmin can _feel_ Yunho shifting underneath his palm, can sense the burning push-pull of muscle beneath his clutch, and the way that translates to presence and physicality and – oh – _oh_ –

They dance it through once more. The choreographer takes an evaluating step back, conflicted, but Changmin helps.

‘Yunho. It should be Yunho who latches on first, but I should push away.’

The choreographer glances up. ‘Let’s try it.’

They do. It’s a success.

-

‘Hyung.’ Changmin’s evaluated it as many ways as he can, but this seems to be the easiest to start with, though It also qualifies as the most mortifying, but at least it’ll get a result – ‘do you think my muscles are hot? Torso muscles. Like, the chest for example. Pectorals.’

Yunho is staring blankly at the tv screen before he cocks his head upwards and looks at Changmin, who is fidgeting awkwardly next to the couch. ‘I find all of you attractive.’

This time, Changmin estimates it’s about one second until his face is flaming red in embarrassment. ‘No, I mean – ’ He plods on, valiantly. ‘I mean – lately, you’ve been occupied with my torso. Like. Touching. Poking, I guess. Just – in general sort of touching. Um.’

‘Oh.’ This time Yunho cracks an embarrassed grin and Changmin’s knees almost buckle in relief. Good. This wasn’t just mortifying for him. ‘Ah – it has a nice appeal. It’s – I – yeah. Yeah, I guess I do find it hot.’

Changmin stares at the arm of the couch as his mouth moves against his will. ‘It’s okay, y’know. Like. It’s fine. Your… Your back is, um. Nice.’

Yunho is laughing – it’s muffled cause he’s pressed his fist against his mouth, but the way his back is arched over his lap and his eyes are crinkling has Changmin go from embarrassed to pissed in half a second and he’s glaring. ‘What are you laughing at, Yunho?’

His hyung takes a moment to gather himself before he’s beaming at Changmin. ‘Come here.’

Immediately, Changmin stalls. ‘No. You laughed.’

It takes a moment but Yunho sobers up, his expression a pleasant, expectant stare now. ‘Okay, I promise. I won’t laugh. Come here.’

Stiffly, he navigates himself around the arm of the couch and sits beside Yunho, adamantly staring at the long-forgotten drama that is playing on screen. He hears Yunho sigh, ‘Changmin, this won’t work if you won’t look at me.’

‘Good,’ replies Changmin spitefully.

‘Changminnie,’ whines Yunho.

He hates that he gives in. Turning towards his hyung, he is immediately accosted with a huge fucking smile that makes his stomach tighten involuntarily and regrets the decision. Before he can turn away again, Yunho lifts up his cotton t-shirt and takes it off entirely, revealing an entire country of skin that makes Changmin break out into goosebumps. Without a word, Yunho turns around on the couch, revealing his rippling back right in front of Changmin.

‘It’d only be fair to let you poke or – ah – try ‘general sort of touching’ after you let me,’ says Yunho as if this makes perfect fucking sense. Changmin supposes that – in his head – it does, but he’s too occupied to bother kicking his hyung for making fun of him.

If Yunho sees Changmin’s chest the way Changmin sees Yunho’s back, then Changmin can’t blame Yunho for shamelessly pressing against the muscles whenever they were shown to him. Changmin’s always been the one with the better self-restraint anyway.

Hesitantly, Changmin brings his fingers up and skates it over the ridge of Yunho’s spine near the neck. Immediately, Yunho arches a little, shoulder blades pushing back and letting the interconnected tissue shift and curve in response like wind passing over sand dunes. Changmin can’t fucking breathe.

For shock value, Changmin presses both palms against the middle of Yunho’s back at once – a unyielding press of skin on skin, and Yunho makes a sound in the back of his throat. Changmin doesn’t let up, of course. He pushes his palms upwards, feeling each roll of skin, tissue, and muscle slip-slide past his palm, until his hands are on Yunho’s shoulder blades.

Half a second later and Changmin is ruthlessly sinking his nails into the skin, leaving ten crescent moons – flushed and dented – over Yunho’s shoulders and Yunho jerks to the sudden onset of pain. Without thought, Changmin’s hands smooth over them, feel the bump of raised and pressed skin under his fingertips, and tries to sooth away the sting.

Yunho shudders but he doesn’t make a sound, only keeps offering the canvas of his back all for Changmin’s taking – all for Changmin to mark and touch and worship however he fucking likes.

Changmin literally cannot think of anything hotter than this, and immediately jerks away – touch and body, when he realizes _oh shit, oh god, his fucking pajama pants are fucking_ tented _–_

‘Changminnie?’ Yunho’s voice is hoarse but inquisitive when he feels the weight on the couch dissipate once Changmin’s standing up, desperate to get the fuck away from this situation before he embarrasses himself some more.

‘I need to go – ’ blurts Changmin, but it’s too late and Yunho’s head is looking over his shoulder, his eyes dropping from the high flush on Changmin’s cheeks to where his hands are clutching the cotton of his pajama pants and the obvious tent between his thighs.

Yunho blinks. ‘Oh.’

And Changmin fucking _books it_ out of the room, tripping over the carpet and all, until he’s slamming the bedroom door shut.

-

‘Changmin,’ calls Yunho from outside, rapping on his door three times in quick succession.

Goddamnit. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since he humiliated himself by getting a fucking boner on the couch as if he was fourteen again and his body could just – y’know – _do that_.

‘Changmin,’ tries Yunho again. Changmin is sitting wide-eyed on his bed, a cushion stuffed over his crotch, and eventually, he’s okay to stand up again as if nothing ever happened. Humiliation – it seemed – was a very effective boner-killer.

‘Come out, Changminnie.’

He’s not going to sit in the dark in his room like a spineless coward. He’s going to face this head on. He’s going to open the door, prop his hip against the wall, and say, ‘yeah, so what if I think your back is hot? What’re you gonna do about it?’ or something equally nonsensical but effective enough to derail the entire thing and get it over with before they have to perform the goddamn chest-grabbing choreo.

‘Changminnie,’ whines Yunho softly, and Changmin feels the one-eighth of a soul he figures he must have somewhere in his chest shatter into a million pieces. In two steps, he crosses the room and wrenches the door open, a sharp ‘what do you want’ on his tongue.

Except Yunho’s suddenly all up in Changmin’s fucking face, and he doesn’t expect his hyung’s hands to shove themselves against his stomach and then – oh my god – slide themselves upwards to skim at his chest – holy fucking Christ –

‘Yunho,’ he squeaks before biting his tongue because his voice didn’t just reach that pitch outside of singing, hell no.

‘It’s the same. You don’t have to be embarrassed, y’know. It’s the same for me, cause your chest – and my back – ’ blabbers Yunho because he always has so much to say and he always forgets to take a breath, organize this thoughts, and _then_ speak.

There’s no point in them living together for so many years if Changmin hasn’t learned to translate of course. He grabs Yunho’s biceps, holding him still. ‘Okay. Just.’ Changmin feels Yunho’s fingers splayed over his pecs and his eyelashes tickling his neck as his hyung tucks himself against him. It takes a moment for the words to hit him. ‘Wait, what.’

‘Don’t be embarrassed,’ says Yunho, slower now, trying again.

‘No, no, I got that,’ says Changmin, ‘I meant the boner part.’

‘Your chest is really hot,’ replies the other, unabashed, and Changmin can _feel_ Yunho’s giant grin against his skin.

‘You should’ve mentioned that before!’ Changmin drags Yunho’s hands from under his shirt and faces him properly. ‘I thought you saw my chest all platonically and aesthetically. Like stylists do! Visual appreciation!’

‘I do appreciate the visual though,’ says Yunho, bewildered.

‘Oh my god,’ says Changmin, appalled. ‘You want to fuck me.’

Yunho is staring at him and gently tugs at the grip on his wrists as if to bring Changmin back to reality. ‘I had assumed that the feeling was mutual, or was the couch thing something else? Have I misinterpreted?’

‘How long?’ snarls Changmin instead of answering. ‘ _How long_ have you wanted this?’

‘A while, I suppose?’ Yunho seems genuinely baffled and tries to calculate. ‘Yeah – a while.’

Changmin’s first thought is, ‘I need a proper answer, hyung,’ and his second thought becomes, ‘we could have been screwing for a while’ which morphs into, ‘we need to make up for lost time’.

He doesn’t say anything like this aloud, but Yunho’s always been an intuitive one, so Changmin is glad that when he tugs Yunho back towards him and bites down on that perfect, lush bottom lip, Yunho opens up as warm on the inside as he is when he smiles or calls him Changdol.

If Changmin was romantic or mushy or any of those things that he insists on singing about, he would say that kissing Yunho is like coming home (and it is) but instead he cups Yunho’s neck between his hands, threading his fingers through the newly-dyed hair and tilts his head back so Changmin can lick into his mouth more thoroughly, taste him for all he’s got.

The taste of kimchi and that odd sweet Yunho likes having after dinner is sort of not exactly as hot as Changmin planned, but his legs are trying to accommodate his hard-on anyway, until Yunho’s thigh is sliding right in-between his legs and – oh god – pressing up against his cock from underneath.

Changmin whines, pulling away, licking at his bottom lip and Yunho’s eyes are blown open wide, his mouth flushed and red. Vaguely, it occurs to Changmin that he might not live through this if his hyung keeps looking at him like that.

‘So, my chest,’ he mentions, and his voice is fucking _wrecked_ – so different that he immediately snaps his jaw closed to pretend that it’s not his voice at all. Yunho sucks in a breath, his fingers skating at the hem of Changmin’s shirt before he’s dipping upwards and pressing ten fingerprints onto Changmin’s skin.

‘Changminnie, I _do_ like all of you,’ reassures Yunho as if Changmin _needs_ reassuring or something.

‘Okay,’ replies Changmin, his voice slightly more in order this time. ‘Do you – ’ He has no idea what he wants to offer Yunho. His mouth, his neck, his legs? And what would that even entail? Is he asking Yunho to use his mouth to jerk off on him, leave come over the skin of his cheek and neck?

The image punches the air out of Changmin’s lungs.

Yunho smiles his ‘calm down, it’s all going to be fine’ smile as if Changmin is having a crisis (and he is – a crisis involving Yunho’s fucking cock stuffed down his throat, losing control over everything, his voice smearing Changmin’s name as he comes in a flood, oh god, oh fuck – ) and says, ‘we can take it slow’ the same time Changmin blurts, ‘want me to suck you off?’

‘I – ’ His hyung voice dies in his throat and his eyes are wide and there’s a glorious pink flush over his face, matching the sheen of his bottom lip.

‘Or,’ barrels Changmin, determined, ‘or you could come on my chest if you like it so much.’ He feels Yunho’s fingers suddenly dig into the skin of his torso, grip becoming tight as his expression cycles through adoration, confusion, and thoughtfulness.

‘Then,’ starts Yunho, his voice careful, ‘I would have to offer you my back, wouldn’t I? Unless you only like it – ah – ‘platonically and aesthetically’.’ Somewhere between that sentence, Yunho’s shoulders start shaking from laughter and Changmin pouts at being mocked.

‘Fuck you,’ he snaps, then reconsiders. ‘Or that – yeah, I could fuck you.’ Open Yunho up on his fingers, slide into his burning heat, have him bouncing in Changmin’s lap, his hands a death-grip on Changmin’s shoulders as he rides Changmin’s cock till kingdom come. Oh. _Oh_.

‘Your bed or mine?’ asks Yunho, and Changmin rolls his eyes because obviously his is closer and walks backwards into his room, pulling Yunho along with him. When his knees hit the bed, Changmin quickly turns and pushes Yunho onto it, letting his hyung sit on it with a soft sound of surprise before he’s dropping to his knees in front of the other.

Immediately, Changmin’s fingers are trailing the hem of Yunho’s pajama bottoms when he feels his chin tilted upwards and he’s kissed, once more, warmly and sweetly. Yunho’s mouth moves slowly and softly, pulling on Changmin’s bottom lip, and Changmin can’t help but keen from his throat, chasing Yunho’s lips when they pull away.

They meet again, Yunho’s fingers carding through his hair, and Changmin only has half a mind to tug on the pajama pants as he lets himself be kissed again and again. Yunho is practiced – which makes sense since he’s had girlfriends and stuff and probably macked around with Heechul or Donghae or all his other close, close friends – not that Changmin’s jealous or anything cause his hand just touched Yunho’s briefs underneath and soon, it’ll be _his_ fingers around his hyung’s dick and has anyone gotten that far?

Eventually, Changmin lets Yunho’s mouth go in exchange for the more pressing matter of Yunho’s thighs lifting upwards and letting Changmin slide everything down past his knees and shoving them off his ankles, leaving Yunho naked bottom down.

‘Fuck,’ says Changmin without thinking, his hands splayed over Yunho’s sharp hipbones as he looks at Yunho’s half-hard dick through the dark of his room. They should’ve turned the lights on. Wait – and Changmin’s hand shoots out to his bedside table, knocking over his alarm clock to turn on the lamp. Better. Much better. Pieces of art should be appreciated with full visuals.

‘Changmin,’ murmurs Yunho, his fingers playing with the edges of Changmin’s hair at the nape of his neck, as if encouraging him, and Changmin doesn’t fucking need encouragement because he’s going to enjoy this for all it’s worth.

He traces a nail down the length of Yunho’s cock, letting it twitch under the sensation, and grasps it at the base, firm and unyielding. Tentatively – more to measure distance rather than anything else, Changmin extends his tongue and dabs at the tip of it, tasting the saltiness. Yunho’s precome. Yunho’s sweat. Yunho’s fucking cock in Changmin’s mouth.

He closes his mouth over the crown, laying an open-mouthed kiss over it and sucks once – a little bit – just to see the reaction. Yunho’s back arches and he gasps, his hands sliding and gripping Changmin’s shoulders.

A positive result, obviously. Changmin’s completely new at this, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make this fucking amazing. What’s the point of watching porn if there was nothing to learn? Changmin laves his tongue over Yunho’s cock, licking trails up the underside, feeling the weight, texture and heat of Yunho as he lays his saliva over the length.

He tries to use both his mouth and hand, sucking desperately on the crown, flicking the tip of his tongue at the cockridge, right at the underside where Yunho makes a keening noise at the back of his throat, and Changmin strokes at the base, his other hand dipping past to play with Yunho’s heavy balls.

‘You’re so good, so good,’ praises Yunho quietly, his syllables gasped out as Changmin eagerly tries to stuff as much cock as he can in his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressed underneath, as his cheeks hollow out, exposing the sharpness of his cheekbones. ‘Like your mouth too, Changminnie.’

The compliment burns down Changmin’s spine, and he feels heavy and hard between his thighs as he works over Yunho’s cock, drinking down the precome as he pulls off the cock entirely to lick his way down to Yunho’s balls. Taking one sac in his mouth, he scrapes his teeth gently over the skin, and Yunho’s groaning aloud – the sound seared forever in Changmin’s psyche.

‘Wanted to fuck your mouth, yes,’ confesses Yunho as Changmin’s hand strokes out a quick rhythm on Yunho’s cock while his mouth is occupied with sucking at Yunho’s balls. ‘So lovely – you’re so fuckin’ lovely – Cha – _ah_ – angmin – _hah_ – ’

And the way he slurs Changmin’s name, syllables split around a stifled moan, has Changmin laying kisses up Yunho’s dick until he’s swallowing it down entirely, tries to cram as much of it in his mouth, not letting up. Valiantly, Changmin tries to deepthroat him, but his throat closes up at the last second and he gags, pulling off, lines of saliva connecting the wet head of Yunho’s dick to the red, flushed mouth of Changmin.

‘I can come by just lookin’ at your mouth, your face,’ Yunho tells him, his voice a little smeared with something familiar to Changmin but he can’t quite place it. Instead, Changmin thinks his face must be broken with how much he wants to let Yunho fuck into his throat, his eyes wide and mouth open in desire.

He tries again – takes Yunho in, eases him over the planes of his tongue and relaxes his throat with a few deep breaths from his nose, and – oh. Oh, oh, oh – ‘Changminnie,’ sighs out Yunho before Changmin’s hands fly to Yunho’s hipbones and try to force him to cant them upwards.

Yunho gets it – he always does – and pulls his cock out by an inch or two before he’s shoving back in and Changmin’s voice is gonna be goddamn ruined forever after this but he doesn’t give a flying fuck anymore, just that Yunho’s screwing into his mouth, taking him apart inside and out, and Changmin sucks desperately as the dick moves between his lips.

‘So good, so perfect, you’re – ’ says Yunho, and Changmin believes in that as he keeps trying to memorize the feel of Yunho fucking his mouth, the weight of his cock on his tongue, the heat in his mouth, the bruising of his lips after this done.

One thrust, two thrust, and then three – shoved right against his face, and Yunho pulls out suddenly, fingers tight around the base. ‘Changmin-ah – ’

‘Please,’ says Changmin and his fingers pull at his shirt, tear it off his torso and he’s surging upwards, his mouth – slick with Yunho’s sweat and precome – licking up into Yunho. It’s a little awkward with Yunho’s back half-arched to meet Changmin’s mouth, and Changmin’s fingers skittering over Yunho’s hipbones, batting the grip on the base so he can stroke it quick and harsh, twisting his wrist on the downstroke.

‘No, Changminnie,’ murmurs Yunho against Changmin’s mouth, ‘I’ll – oh fuck – I’ll come on you.’

‘The point – fuck – that’s the point,’ snaps Changmin between his pants, trying to catch his breath and kiss Yunho all the same, and everything is hot and narrowed down to points of contact – his lips on Yunho, his hand around Yunho’s cock, the slick hot movement that brings Yunho closer and closer to coming. ‘C’mon, please, _hyung_.’

And that seems to undo Yunho, leave him unraveled entirely as his cock twitches in Changmin’s hand and he’s coming, hard, leaving ropes of semen over Changmin’s chest, draping his forearm and hand – warm wet markings all over Changmin, and Changmin can’t breathe with how glorious this feeling this is.

Yunho is eventually hissing at the overstimulation; though he doesn’t bat Changmin’s hand from his cock, letting Changmin milk him out for all he’s worth. ‘Changmin,’ he pants, dropping his forehead against Changmin, ‘I came on you.’

‘All over me,’ emphasizes Changmin, his voice a little pitched with arousal. ‘Fuck – all over the chest you so fucking love.’

He sees his hyung squeeze his eyes shut, his mouth twitching with words unsaid, and Changmin clambers upwards, standing, his pajama pants tented and hell, even a wet spot growing at the sheer amount of precome his cock is dripping from the entire experience. ‘Yunho.’

A stifled moan later and Yunho finally dares to look upwards at Changmin’s face, his eyes trailing over the drying white streaks over Changmin’s neck, dripping down his collarbone, across his pecs. ‘Fuck,’ says Yunho, ‘you’re so gorgeous.’

It’s amazing that Changmin can parade around draped with semen as if they’re a string of pearls, but the moment a sincere compliment drops from Yunho’s mouth, he feels a part of him curl up in warmth and admiration – and it has nothing to do with lust. Forcibly, Changmin scoffs, laying a hand on Yunho’s shoulder and pushing him backwards. ‘Shut up, Yunho. I wanna fuck you.’

‘What happened to taking it slow?’ laughs Yunho – and he’s teasing, Changmin _knows_ he’s teasing, but a flare of alarm spreads up his spine and he takes half a step back, suddenly flustered.

‘I won’t – god, I’m not going to force you if you say no!’ he spits out hurriedly, hands thrown upwards, palms exposed as if expressing his innocence.

Yunho is looking up at him with that same mixture of confusion and adoration, and Changmin focuses on his bedside lamp instead.

‘I want to, Changminnie,’ says Yunho quietly. ‘Anything you want – it’s probably going to be okay with me.’

‘You don’t – ’ stutters Changmin, ‘you don’t have to comfort me, okay. I’m not… I don’t need it.’

Yunho doesn’t reply, to which Changmin is thankful for because he realizes, half a second later, that he sounds exactly like the person who probably needs reassurance. Instead, Yunho occupies himself with divesting himself of the rest of his clothes – baring every inch of himself before he scoots backwards on the bed until his back hits the wall and his legs laid out in front of him, knees drawn up and slightly spread in invitation.

It’s way too much at first glance and Changmin needs a second or five to not come like a teenager in his pants. Hurriedly, he kicks off his pajama bottoms, standing unabashedly naked and covered in come, and it’s not half as embarrassing as the warm way Yunho reaches out his hands, gesturing for Changmin to join him on the bed.

So he does, meeting Yunho’s mouth halfway and letting himself be kissed – slowly, carefully, easing into something more hot and wet and hungry as Changmin takes turns letting Yunho bite at his top lip as he sucks at the plush bottom lip of the other. Soon, he’s tilting his head, licking along the ridge of Yunho’s teeth, replacing all tastes of his dinner with the tang of come and Changmin’s tongue.

When he pulls away, Yunho is panting, quietly, running his fingers up Changmin’s neck and over his cheekbones, pushing his hair back from his forehead. ‘In hindsight, I might like your mouth more than your chest.’

Changmin can’t help it: ‘Next time, you can come down my throat.’

‘Fuck,’ blurts Yunho and drags him in for another kiss, sliding his tongue beside the other’s. Changmin maneuvers his body between Yunho – sliding his hands down the inside of Yunho’s spread legs, finding his half-hard cock and dipping past his balls to press a fingertip flush against Yunho’s hole.

‘Can I come in here?’ asks Changmin, completely serious.

‘Anywhere – fuck – _anywhere_ ,’ replies Yunho without a moment’s hesitation, spreading his legs wider and canting his hips upwards.

Changmin pushes away from Yunho to reach under his bed and drags out a small pouch filled with condoms and lube that he keeps on hand just in case. Grabbing at the lube, he pops open the cap and returns to Yunho, ‘if you say no right now, I’ll murder you.’

‘If it’s you, maybe I won’t mind,’ says Yunho, laughter caught in his voice, ‘weapon of choice, Changminnie? Your cock?’

Changmin throws him an incredulous look before he’s slicked up one finger and pressing against Yunho’s hole again. ‘Let me in.’

‘Say the magic word or somethin’ – ah – ’ says Yunho, legs falling apart as the fingers slides in two knuckles deep.

‘Why do you have to be mouthy in bed,’ says the other, blowing a raspberry as he slowly fingerfucks Yunho, ‘you’re killing the mood.’

‘I’m lettin’ you screw me into the bed in the foreseeable future, Changminnie. The mood’s been set.’

It’s almost unfair how much sense that makes, so Changmin ignores him and works in another finger, his own cock leaving a pool of precome between his thighs as he ignores it in favour of focusing on Yunho’s hand on his own cock, tugging in time with the slow strokes of Changmin’s fingers inside of him.

‘Is this where I tell you how tight you are?’ says Changmin as he struggles in another finger, slackening the muscles around his hands.

‘You watch too much – fuck – _ah_ – porn – yeah – ’

‘But it’s true,’ insists Changmin in a breath. The lube is probably almost all gone by now, but Yunho’s finally loose and willing, his body strung tight with a second burn of arousal as holds a tight grip around the base of his cock. The sweat has Yunho’s hair stuck to his forehead, a fine sheen over his cheeks and mouth. Changmin leans forward, biting down on the bottom lip and tugging it as he reassembles his body to position his cock against Yunho’s hole.

‘Count of three?’ asks Yunho, his voice too pitched to be cheery.

‘Sure,’ says Changmin, the tip of his leaking dick against the hole. ‘Three.’ And he fits the crown of his cock inside of Yunho, sliding the rest slowly and steadily into the tight, all-consuming heat of Yunho’s ass. ‘Oh fuck.’

‘Changminnie,’ keens Yunho, hands flying out to claw at Changmin’s shoulders as he opens himself up on Changmin’s cock. Changmin has trouble breathing as he gets all the way in, his head almost bumping against the wall behind Yunho, feeling the man’s legs throw themselves around his hips, taking a hold.

‘S’good – it’s really fucking hot and tight and good,’ says Changmin in a punched-out breath. His cock is leaking even more profusely and twitching against the press of Yunho’s ass, and it’s like all the nerve-endings of his body just fired at the same time because there is only white-noise in his head right now.

‘Shit, that’s – ah – good,’ pants Yunho, and Changmin feels one of the hands retreat from his shoulders to tug at the slowly softening cock between them. Changmin sucks in a breath and – with great effort – pulls out entirely, leaving Yunho’s clenching hole empty as Yunho sucks in breath after breath.

‘Lie down, we’re on a bed, dumbass,’ orders Changmin, but he’s probably not fooling anyone with the flare of concern that sparks in his chest. Yunho wets his mouth and nods, shifting so he’s on his side on the bed, facing the wall with his back to Changmin.

‘One sec,’ says Yunho quickly, ‘give me – yeah – ’ and Changmin waits, fingers a tight circle around the base of his cock as he views the long arch of Yunho’s spine. Eventually, Yunho sucks in a breath and props himself up on his knees, elbows framing his face as he arches his back and exposes his ass to the air. ‘Yeah, now do it.’

‘Oh god,’ says Changmin, another bolt of arousal shooting down his spine. Quickly, he clambers behind Yunho, knees slip-sliding over the sheets in their sweat and his hands frame Yunho’s ass, sliding down his thighs, then back up to thumb at his hipbones. ‘Count of three.’

Yunho snorts, and Changmin can’t help but smile as he silently slides his cock in one long push, keeping it as slow as possible as he fits his way into the hole. It’s just as hot, just as tight, and it might take close to a miracle to keep Changmin for not already flooding Yunho’s ass with his come. Still – Changmin always had the better self-restraint between them.

Or at least he tells himself so because the sight of the long stretch of Yunho’s glorious back is overwhelming. He can’t help but let go of his hyung’s hipbones and run his fingers up Yunho’s ribs to palm his triceps, trace the edges of his shoulder blades with his nails and skip over the ridge of Yunho’s spine all the way back down to the twin dips right above his ass.

‘Like that?’ says Yunho, and Changmin almost bites his tongue in surprise – so consumed he was in Yunho’s back.

With Yunho’s face mashed against the pillows, fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets, unable to look back at Changmin and see his expression – it’s suddenly so easy for Changmin to lean over, laying kisses up his back till the nape of his neck, and say, ‘you’re so fucking beautiful, Yunho.’

Yunho’s back arches when Changmin knows a sudden bout of shyness hits him, and his ass clenches involuntarily down on Changmin’s cock, punching the breath out of him as his nerves fire. Changmin groans aloud, his hands sliding down to take a grip at Yunho’s hips and begin undulating against the other’s hole, his cock moving a bare centimeter in and out in a long grind.

‘Should I fuck you now?’ teases Changmin, just to see if Yunho will respond.

‘Do it,’ orders Yunho, his voice muffled, and Changmin drags his cock halfway out before shoving back in – just a little on the rough side. It has Yunho keening in the back of his throat, and Changmin figures that’s as good a sign as any to continue.

He fucks Yunho in measured thrusts, timing it with the accelerated breaths that Yunho sucks in, his chest going concave. It pleases Changmin to see Yunho stroke his own cock back into leaking hardness in the same rhythm that Changmin has set. It’s not close to the mindless rutting that Changmin craves – to just screw Yunho until his voice is hoarse from yelling out and flood his ass with so much come that it leaks down the inside of his thigh when Changmin pulls out.

But it’s a start – the slow pattern of push-pull, the friction and ache that builds slowly in Changmin’s gut as he watches the clench of Yunho’s back whenever Changmin slides his cock back in. Yunho’s breathing gets harsher and heavier, his arousal kicking up a notch as his cock begins to leak precome again, and it’s so good, so fucking good – to have Yunho on his knees like this, legs spread to accommodate Changmin’s dick inside of him.

Until he hears a muffled noise from Yunho that might’ve been words. Changmin drapes his chest along Yunho’s back, the dried come flaking off and leaving behind a trail over the flexing muscles. ‘What’d you say, hyung?’

It’s the arousal taking a toll on Yunho, curving his mouth, and Changmin realizes why his voice sounded different yet so familiar. Changmin doesn’t ever get to hear this – hear Yunho break apart and lose control, the octaves of his syllables dropping one, two, three, and syntax overthrown for precise crudeness: ‘fuck me – ah – harder, faster – don’t fuckin’ stop, Changdol, don’t you dare – hah – ’

Changmin is not an aural person by any means, but Yunho’s accent smears itself over his syllables, and he can’t resist. Only lets his body take charge and screw hard into Yunho on the upstroke, pressed up against his rim and grinding deep somewhere inside of him. It has Yunho clawing at the sheets, his cock spitting precome, when Changmin comes through again and again.

He fucks like he doesn’t know anything else – has his hands grip Yunho’s hips and slam right into him in a flurry. Changmin still retains a sense of rhythm, but it’s covered in roughness and brutality, wants to match Yunho’s impatience with his own desperate need to come. His cock is forcing Yunho open, letting the burn of the stretch work its way up Yunho’s spine until his back is even more arched as he offers his ass to Changmin to work over and over again.

‘That’s right – fuck – damn perfect you are, so gorgeous,’ moans Yunho, his voice deeper, hoarse, fucking _ruined_ , ‘don’t stop – ah – ah – Changdol- _ah_ – ’

Changmin sobs as another wave of arousal hits him, as if his body can’t manage lungfuls of air anymore, and all he wants to do is bask in Yunho’s words and make him feel so good while getting screwed. ‘Get up, get up – please, I need you up,’ he begs, hooking his hands at Yunho’s underarms to pull him.

A moment later and Yunho is still on his knees, but he’s propped upwards, his hands thrown back to dig into Changmin’s shoulder blades as Changmin keeps Yunho bouncing in his lap, his cock scraping against the rim of Yunho’s hole at every downstroke, the sound of lube and skin meeting skin even more audible like this as Yunho desperately rides Changmin’s cock in his lap.

‘Gonna – fuck – gonna fuckin’ come,’ pants out Yunho, his hand working over his own cock to match the rhythm that Changmin has as he grinds deep into Yunho, feeling the tightness and the heat anew with each thrust. Everything is slick and oversensitive and Changmin twitches each time Yunho’s ass involuntarily clenches when his thumb flicks over his leaking tip.

‘Then – _hah_ – come – what’re you waiting for – ’ pants Changmin in his ear, unable to take it any longer, his hips moving in tandem with Yunho, letting Yunho fuck himself open on Changmin’s cock, loosen up his ass so he can take all of him inside and then drag it back out and back in – an unending tidal wave of friction and pleasure.

‘Changdol,’ says Yunho, and Changmin presses his face into the sweaty crook of Yunho’s neck to hear that word vibrate through him, ‘Changdol.’

‘Do it, all over my cock – fucking come,’ he says, more to himself than to Yunho, but it has an effect that Changmin hadn’t even imagined.

A ripple goes down the glorious back of his hyung and all his muscles seize up with tension as the string of arousal begins to break. His ass is milking Changmin’s cock already, moving up and down it with varying tightness, and it only gets more intense when Yunho scrapes his thumbnail along his cock ridge and blows his load.

As Yunho strokes out the come from his dick, his ass tightens and untightens, leaving Changmin gasping – his entire rhythm fucked over as he tries to savour the way the friction adds up, presses right against the most sensitive parts of his cock as he fucks desperately into Yunho. The aftershocks that spread through Yunho’s body echo down into Changmin’s dick and he forgets how to breathe as his hands tighten over Yunho’s hips and screw right deep inside of him.

‘Ah,’ gasps out Yunho, his form relaxing and turning limp against Changmin’s chest, ‘did I say you could stop – fuck – keep goin’ – ’

‘Hyung,’ blurts Changmin, emotion curving around his throat, and he bucks into the pliant heat of the other, letting his arousal build up and up and up – getting him closer and closer to coming, letting the still-there tightness and the perfect burning, searing heat of Yunho’s body leave Changmin gasping for air as he feels his entire being be turned into a husk from the experience.

He bucks into Yunho’s hole, once, twice, and only manages a short, ‘oh fuck’ before he’s coming in a glorious mess, his semen slicking up the inside of Yunho, marking him inside and out, as Changmin rides out the waves of his pleasure with exhausted short thrusts from his hips, letting the aftershocks jolt down his body rather than make a real, conscious effort at controlling and using them.

It’s still so warm in Yunho, even with the wetness of the lube and come inside of him and Changmin almost feels bereft when he eases Yunho’s quiet, relaxed body onto the bedspread, pulling his cock out in the process and leaving a streak of white come down the inside of Yunho’s thigh. He has a momentary urge to lick it up but chooses against it as he tries to figure out what to do in the afterglow.

Yunho solves it for him by blindly flailing his arm to grab at Changmin and pull him down against the bed as well. Changmin stares wide-eyed at the sleepy, half-lidded expression of the other, who only smiles softly.

‘Should do that again,’ says Yunho. Then: ‘Dance practice is gonna be hell tomorrow though.’

Changmin keeps staring until normalcy punches him in the gut. ‘Of course you would think of dance practice after I’ve just fucked you.’

‘What else is there to say?’ ponders Yunho out loud. ‘Other than the obvious – you were great, we should’ve done this years ago, I want to jerk off on your face next time.’

‘One of those doesn’t fit.’

‘Changminnie,’ says Yunho, his face all smoothed out gentility and voice so carefully soft, ‘thank you.’

It takes half a second for his face to go from normal to flaming red. This is officially some sort of new record. Changmin presses the heel of his palm against his eyes in a vague attempt to hide. ‘Just – fuck. You’re ridiculous. Why do I even like you.’

‘Love,’ croons the other. ‘You meant to say ‘why do I even love you’.’

Changmin peeks between his fingers at the expectant stare Yunho is giving him. ‘How do you even know I love you.’

‘You say it every birthday. Every time I argue with the manager to go out for barbeque. Every time you get wasted and Kyuhyun calls me to pick you up and you try to walk back to the car with dignity but end up sprawled on the backseat anyway, staring at the rear view mirror, telling me that you always loved me best out of everyone you’ve ever met in your life.’

Yunho yawns, the sleepiness getting to him, but his voice is clear and the words hang between them. Changmin feels horribly vulnerable like this and he reaches his hands out, tucks them under the pillow where Yunho’s head rest, before he says – quiet and certain: ‘it’s true.’

‘I know, Changminnie,’ says Yunho. ‘I love you too.’

Stupidly, Changmin feels like he might cry. He’s fifteen again and staring at leader Yunho and wondering what it’s like to be on the cusp of fame and still be so wondrously kind and careful. He’s fifteen again and staring at leader Yunho and imagining what his name tastes like in his hyung’s mouth. He’s fifteen again and staring at leader Yunho and falling terribly in love.

‘Go to sleep, we’ll clean up in the morning,’ he says instead. Yunho buries his face deeper into the pillow and nods, his legs tangling in between Changmin’s as he bodily drags himself closer to the other. Of course Yunho would be a post-orgasm cuddler, why did Changmin even consider otherwise, but he curls up next to his hyung all the same.

Dance practice is hell in the morning, but when Yunho grabs him, his fist clutches the cotton of Changmin’s shirt right over his heart, and Changmin makes sure to leave claw marks above Yunho’s own – a pledge of loyalty.

-

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose I ship them when they're more snarky. Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> x-posted to [tumblr](http://leftfoottrapped.tumblr.com/post/60778941207/affinity-nc-17-dbsk-tvxq-jyj).


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